He sighed, glaring at the snack plate. “I can’t eat all of this.”
“Fine. I’ll share it with you.”
I sat and held out the plate, arching a brow at him. He took a sip of water, then reached out and grabbed the thinnest slice of apple, crunching on it with an impudent look on his face.
“Take a piece of the brie, too.”
“Oh my God,” he muttered, selecting a small wedge. “Your turn,” he said, gesturing at the plate.
I took a slice of apple and a piece of brie, then pushed the plate back in his direction. He yanked the plate from my hands and started eating.
“I’m only doing this to shut you up,” he mumbled through a chunk of cheese. “Don’t get a big head about it.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I replied, rising from the couch. I paused to push his hair back from his forehead. “Stay here.”
“Bossy motherfucker.”
I ignored him and went to the bathroom, where I selected a few items from the toiletry bag I’d put together.
He laughed when I returned to the living room and rejoined him on the couch. “Are we painting our nails?”
“No. I’m paintingyournails. Ozzie wanted to take you to a nail salon, but we agreed to hold off on that until you were feeling better.”
“Oh, you two agreed, did you? I’m so glad I didn’t even factor into that discussion.”
“Apologies,James,” I snarked back, using his first name as I soaked a cotton ball with the potent varnish remover. “We made the decision as Dr. Ahmed was threading a feeding tube up your nose because you’d become delirious from lack of food and sleep. You weren’t exactly in a position to comment.”
I held out my hand, stifling the urge to pull Hendrix onto my lap when he reluctantly slid his palm over mine. His polish was so badly chipped I was able to remove all of it with just one cotton ball.
He snarled at me when I accompanied him to the kitchen sink to wash his hands, but he let me steady him without comment when his knees threatened to buckle. We moved the rest of his manicure to the small breakfast nook, and I carefully applied the base coat, color, and quick-drying topcoat, just like I’d seen on the YouTube video I’d reviewed. I had to use a Q-tip to clean up the edges, but it was acceptable for my first try.
Hendrix wrinkled his nose at me while blowing on his nails. I held his gaze with practiced neutrality. “I figured you’d feel better with your nails done.”
“I’d feel better if I could sleep for ten years, but this is a not-terrible first step,” he said, yawning.
Jackass. “Do you want to take a nap?”
“Probably,” he said, stretching his neck first to one side, then the other. He stood, then grabbed the edge of the table. Despite cursing at the offer of my elbow, he took it and let me guide him to his room.
I tucked him in, and he slept till midafternoon, barely waking when Dr. Ahmed came to check his vitals. She was happy he’d gotten a snack but emphasized his need for regular meals.
Ozzie and Walker were both busy for the rest of the day, though they checked in several times. I dragged a chair from the breakfast nook into Hendrix’s bedroom and caught up on my emails while he napped again. I hated that he was so exhausted, but, having never been given free rein to simply look at him without worrying about how many seconds were too many, I indulged in the opportunity to take in his delicate beauty.
Even with the skin under his eyes the color of a deep bruise, he was breathtaking. As he relaxed into sleep, his hard edgessoftened. He looked ten years younger, and I wished I could somehow give him that kind of peace in his waking hours.
I had given his parents my phone number, and we texted back and forth through the afternoon and into the evening, until he roused again.
“You’re still here?” he complained, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Normally a sparkling cerulean color, today they were a flat navy, devoid of shine.
“I’m here for the duration, Hendrix. Get used to it. I’ll try not to nag you too badly.”
He sat up and set his feet on the floor, swaying a bit. Yawning deeply, he stretched his arms out to the sides, revealing a strip of pale, inked belly and too-sharp hip bones. I wanted to kiss him while spreading my palm across his warm skin, and then I wanted to feed him until his ribs were no longer visible.
He put his hands down, as if to push himself up, but he stopped and looked at me. “Wait. Was that a joke?”
“No, it was a promise. If you cooperate, I won’t nag you.”
“Okay, fine, maybe I was being dramatic about the nagging. But you do like to tell people what to do. Don’t lie.”
